


a little faith

by timeinthetardis



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Camelot, Dark Swan Arc, F/M, angst and stargazing, post 5x02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:59:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4983733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeinthetardis/pseuds/timeinthetardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unable to sleep and unwilling to waste her time after the disastrous Camelot welcome ball, Emma visits Merlin's tower to investigate on her own. When Killian finds her, the events of the evening- particularly involving a certain former thief- must be discussed.</p><p>Just a quick scene that takes place somewhere between 5x02 and 5x03.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a little faith

Emma finds her way up to Merlin's tower sometime after her parents go to bed (after the incredibly circular conversation she'd had with them which had taken nearly an hour, and honestly- if it weren't for the incredibly serious circumstances they're in, she would think that they're trying to intentionally provoke her back into acting like her teenaged self, just to see what they'd missed), carefully staying out of sight of the nearly endless stream of guards assigned to the corridor where the Storybrooke transplants have been given several oversized chambers.

She'd hesitated for a moment outside of Killian's door on her way up, wanting nothing more than to slip into bed beside him, to let him curl around her back with an arm slung over her hips, to feel the steady comfort of his warm breath on the back of her neck as he slept. Her knees had practically gone weak at the thought of it, of a night free from visions of Rumpelstiltskin and this loneliness freezing into her bones, but she _knows_ Killian, knows what he'll do if she seeks him out. She might not need to sleep, but he still does; if she goes in there, after what happened tonight, he'll never leave her to lie awake on her own. It was a miracle that he'd gone to bed at all, and as irritating as it was to have to explain to her parents over and over that _no_ , _she didn't think staying in the room with them would help, if anything it might traumatize her_ \- at least it had taken long enough that the guards had forced him into his chamber, rather than allowing him to pace the corridor waiting for her.

(And fine, so it stings a bit that he hadn't come to say goodnight to her after all of the chaos, to give her a quick kiss before she had to face the night on her own, but then- she's an adult, she's the Savior and she's the fighting off the Darkness, she doesn't actually _need_ a kiss goodnight.

The fact that he'd pulled away from her earlier, that he hasn't touched her since she'd let go of his hand after healing Robin- that knowledge hurts like a _bitch_.) 

She spends a few hours sorting through the mess, brushing away cobwebs and organizing the truly bizarre collection of items strewn across the shelves. It's less of a long shot and more of a wild roll of the dice, but she runs her fingertips along the surface of each object, hoping that maybe, just this once, it will be as simple as touching the right magical totem. Never mind the fact that, if Arthur is to be believed, they've had almost a decade to look through all of Merlin's things, to find what they need themselves- perhaps the knights and ladies, too wrapped up in the promises of prophecy, had missed the simplest solution. But she's the chosen one, she always has been, and if there is any justice in the world (or worlds, in her case, she supposes), she should be the one to stumble upon it.

(That's what she thinks she's coming to realize: when it comes to her life, there _is_ no justice to be had.)

And maybe it's her own discomfort in enclosed spaces, or that her only other experience in this room involved a loss of control so complete that it makes her grit her teeth and dig her nails into her own palms; maybe it's the magic itself, the long memory of a sentient power that's been locked in and locked up for centuries. Either way, the room seems to shrink around her, rounded walls drawing closer and closer until she finds herself flinging open one of the enormous windows, perching herself precariously on the ledge as she inhales deeply. From this height, she can see beyond the sprawling castle walls, across the wide green fields that butt up against the forest, and it's- it's almost too still, too idyllic, like one of the prettier illustrations in Henry's book. A breeze stirs the tops of the trees, cooling her flushed cheeks as she rests her head against the window frame, and for once the moment isn't interrupted by interjections from the Rumpelstiltskin in her head. It's almost... well. _Peaceful_.

She's just found a constellation that she can recognize ( _the Anchora_ , Killian had told her when they'd fallen back in time, long fingers tracing the outline of the shape in the scattering of stars, _my brother's favorite_ , and she'd let herself forget the way her mother stared at her, listening instead to Killian's careful recitation of the constellations) when the door swings open behind her. 

“Emma?” 

She lifts her head from the window frame and glances over her shoulder, feeling a smile curl at the edges of her mouth as Killian steps into the room.

“Hey,” she says softly. “Shouldn't you be sleeping?”

He raises an eyebrow, shutting the door firmly behind him. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Looking away from him, she turns back to the window, tipping her head back to gaze up at the sky. “I just found the Anchora. What were the other ones you showed me, the last time we were here? I remember that they were all surprisingly nautical.”

“Swan.”

“Isn't there one that's shaped like a ship, or something? I feel like the constellations here look more like their names than they do at home,” she continues, reaching up automatically to adjust the crown of flowers still tangled in her hair. He crosses the room in a few easy strides, settling on the ledge next to her (and it's a tight squeeze but she doesn't really care, not with the warm weight of his leg pressed up against hers and radiating through the skirts of her gown).

“You don't care about the stars,” he says, and she huffs.

“I do, actually-” she starts, but he cuts her off.

“Emma, please.”

She sighs, pulling her gaze away from the sky and turning back to him. He's studying her face carefully, brow furrowed with concern, and it _hurts_. “I can't.”

“You can't- what?”

“I can't sleep. It's a... Dark One thing,” she says in a rush. She feels his sharp intake of breath more than she hears it, and she can't help a quick glance down at her hand. The bright sparkle from earlier had faded instantly, leaving only the slightest hint of a shimmer, but even that makes her shudder inwardly.

“That explains a few things,” Killian mutters, jaw tight. Meeting her eyes, his face relaxes slightly, and he laces their fingers together. “But not why you're alone up here, love.”

Emma shrugs. “If I can't sleep, I might as well do something useful. And who was I going to bring up here, one of the guards? I don't think that would've gone over well.”

“Aye, but you do have a dashing pirate ever at your service.”

“A dashing pirate who needs to _sleep_ ,” she points out, raising her free hand to lightly trace the heavy circles under his eyes. “Have you slept at all since I- since this started?” 

“I had more important tasks to accomplish,” he says, and she tilts her head, scanning his face. “Still do, for that matter.”

“Killian.” She lets her fingers drift across his skin, cupping her palm lightly around his cheek. “You can't fix everything at once. You have to rest. I'll be fine, I promise.”

He frowns. “Regina should never have made you use your magic earlier.”

Emma sighs, letting her hand drop from his face. Thinking about the evening- about saving Robin- makes something under her skin swirl and itch, fighting to rise to the surface. “She didn't have the dagger with her.” 

“It seemed as if she might fetch it, should you have chosen not to do as she asked.”

Her fingers tighten on his, and the slight gleam of her skin makes her stomach turn. “But I did, so it doesn't matter. Robin's fine, Roland's not an orphan, Regina didn't go full Evil Queen, everybody wins.”

“Indeed.” He squeezes back, gently reaching up to brush a lock of her hair over her shoulder with his hook. “But what about you?”

“What about me?” she asks airily. He doesn't buy it.

“What happened tonight, Swan?" 

Shifting on the ledge, she goes for lightness again. “I thought we just went over the whole Robin-Roland-Regina thing, but-”

“Emma.” He's looking at her seriously, no trace of humor in his eyes, and she falters. “Something happened in that chamber that you're not telling me. You were speaking to someone who wasn't there.”

She hesitates for a long moment, staring at their hands rather than meeting his gaze. Out of the corner of her eye, she can barely see Rumpelstiltskin, teetering on top of a pile of books but unusually silent. She shudders, and Killian squeezes her hand again.

“You can tell me anything, love,” he says, and she can't help choking out a short peal of laughter.

“I wish I could,” she whispers.

“You can,” he insists, leaning forward to press his forehead to hers. “You don't have to carry everything on your own.”

“I was talking to Rumpelstitskin,” she says finally. “He's been in my head, sort of- advising me, I guess, on how to use my magic.” Killian sits back slightly, and she can _feel_ the weight of his gaze on her face, but she doesn't look up. “Apparently the Darkness comes with a mental cheerleader." 

Ignoring her dull attempt at humor (though she can tell, from the way he tilts his head when she finishes speaking, that he's wondering what exactly a _cheerleader_ is), he skims his thumb over the back of her hand. “And this vision you had. You've had it before?”

She nods. “Ever since I got here. He's not always there, but when he is, he's very vocal.”

He releases her hand, getting to his feet and starting to pace. “That _bloody_ Crocodile. Even from another realm, he's trying to stand in my way.” A muscle in his jaw jumps. “Trying to hurt _you_.”

“He thinks I like the Darkness,” she says quietly, and Killian stops moving (practically stops _breathing_ ), staring at her from across the room.

“What?” he asks, incredulous, and she finally meets his gaze.

“And he isn't wrong, because I did like it- I mean, I _liked_ being able to save Robin. Killian, I never could've done that without this new magic, but I pulled it off today, and Roland isn't an orphan and I can't be sorry about it,” she says in a rush, heart pounding in her ears. “Afterwards, I tried to fix it, to get rid of it, but-”

“You kissed me,” he says slowly, eyes widening. “You were trying to break the curse?”

“I thought it might work because- well, you know. It has before, for other things,” and she's blushing, and god, this is _so_ not the time to get caught up in how she feels about him but even just thinking about that kiss makes her want to forget all of this Dark One bullshit and clear off the table and-

“But it didn't work.” He's watching her, face blank. She shakes her head, and her gaze lands on her hand again, on the faint shimmer of her skin in the moonlight streaming through the window.

“No, it didn't,” Emma says. She hesitates for a moment, fumbling over the words. “Killian, what if you're wrong about me? What if I can't be saved?”

“Don't say that,” he says, coming to sit next to her again in the space of a blink. He cradles her face gently between his hand and his hook, his eyes blazing as he meets her gaze. “Emma Swan, you are a bloody marvel, and I'm not going to lose you.” He sucks in a quick breath, pressing his forehead against hers again. “I'm going to save you.” 

“And if you can't?” She brings her hands up to his, wrapping her fingers around his wrist and his brace. “Killian, you have to promise me that if it comes down to it, you will let Regina do what is necessary.”

“It won't come to that,” he insists roughly, and she shakes her head against his.

“You don't know that. You can't know that. What if it had been you, tonight, instead of Robin?” She grimaces, her grip on his arms tightening. “I would have done anything to save you, whatever the consequences.”

“You wouldn't.” He skims his thumb along the line of her cheekbone. “I keep telling you, I'm a survivor. And you, love, are the Savior. Between the two of us, I feel certain that we can get home without any major injuries or dark magic.”

“Both of those things have already happened,” she points out.

“Without any more major injuries or dark magic, then,” he says.

“That seems pretty difficult for this group.”

“Have a little faith in yourself, Swan,” he says softly, leaning back just enough to press a kiss to the crown of her head. She nods, swallowing hard, and releases her grip on his arms, skimming her hand up to twine their fingers together again.

“That's the Whirlpool, right?” She points to a cluster of stars with her free hand, directing his gaze to a light patch of sky.

“Aye, it is. And the Great Whale, right beside it.”

“I see it.”

They sit in silence for a long moment, hands clasped, eyes on the stars.

“You should get some sleep,” Emma says finally, getting to her feet and tugging him along after her. “And you should let me stay with you.”

He winks at her, and she rolls her eyes. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to stay updated on my writing (or join the fun of constant CS blogging), please feel free to check out my [tumblr](http://in-each-place-and-forever.tumblr.com/) and/or my [writing tumblr](http://distinct-elements-of-speech.tumblr.com/).


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